Make A Wish And Blow
by JadedDragon4
Summary: ONE-SHOT/COMPLETE! It's Hermione's birthday and she gets a very special present. One-shot Dramione. Lemon. Mature audiences only, please. If that's not your cup of tea, then don't read. If you do read, please review! Thanks and enjoy :


_A/N: It was my birthday on the 21st, and this idea popped into my head. So, perhaps as a way to break the writer's block from my other stories . . . or just as a way to get this fun, little one-shot out, I sat down and got this down on paper faster than any story I have ever written. Call it destiny :) As always, there are some VERY graphic adult situations in this—because that's how I write. If you don't like that, it will not hurt my feelings if you want to leave. But, you have been warned. Remember, this is all in fun. And it was written quickly. So, I'm sorry if anything seems a little OOC, but please, just take it as it's worth . . . mindless smut ___

_Also, the characters do not belong to me. I just use their likenesses for my own, torrid fantasies and desires. I promise that I am still working on my other stuff; I've just had some problems with time (as always). So, without further ramblings, enjoy. And please read and review!!!!!!_

**Make A Wish, And Blow**

"Are you ready?"

"Yes."

"And you're sure you can't see anything?"

Hermione reached up, lightly touched the hand that covered her eyes, and smiled. "There's a hand over my eyes . . . how could I possibly see anything?"

"Okay. Well, if you're ready . . . ."

Hermione laughed exasperatedly. "Oh, for goodness' sake, Harry! I'm ready!"

Harry chuckled lightheartedly. "Alright . . . alright. 1 . . . 2 . . . 3!"

On three, the hand was removed. Cool air quickly replaced the heat that had built up through the skin-to-skin contact and Hermione slowly opened her eyes.

The Gryffindor Common Room as blanketed in shadows—dimly lit by a roaring fire—and she had to blink once . . . twice . . . to allow time for her eyes to adjust.

Her friends' faces swam into focus. Harry, Ron, Ginny, Fred, George, Neville, Seamus, Dean . . . everyone stood beaming at her.

"Happy Birthday!" Their voices chorused loudly.

A smile stretched across Hermione's face. "Thank you. Thank you, all."

Harry gestured toward the low table that was positioned in the middle o the room. "Surprise!"

Hermione turned her gaze to where he was pointing. A stunningly decorated cake ablaze with candles was situated on the center of the table.

A small lump formed in her throat. "It's beautiful."

"It's your present from all of us."

"Thank you." Smiling, she turned to face her friends, but suddenly, her eyebrows knit together in confusion. "Not to sound impertinent . . . because I love it, I truly do . . . but why all of the secrecy for just a cake?"

"Oh, it's not _just _a cake, love." Fred's voice sounded, mischief shining brightly in his eyes.

Hermione raised her eyebrows in interest. "Oh no?"

"No." George chimed in, a matching expression of exhilaration cast over his features.

"And how does this differ from your normal, everyday birthday cake?" She crossed her arms lightly across her chest.

"Well, in normal, everyday birthday cakes you make a wish, you blow out the candles, and you forget all about it." George's voice seemed to bubble with excitement.

"So?"

"So . . . what if we were to tell you that these candles are different? Something that we've been working on for some time."

"And how are they different?"

Fred appeared behind her, his breath hot on her neck. "With _these_ candles, you make a wish . . . you blow . . . ." He blew lightly on her neck and she shivered involuntarily. "But _this _time, your wish comes true."

Hermione twisted her head to stare at him incredulously. "What?"

George's eyes danced. "One of our more brilliant inventions, if I may say so myself."

"But, how can that work?"

Fred shrugged and waved his hand nonchalantly. "A bit of Felix Felicis, some various charms, a couple of key, _secret_ ingredients . . . ." He trailed off covertly.

"And, that can make your wish come true?"

"Well, theoretically." George replied.

"Theoretically?"

"Well, not only is this a birthday present to you . . . but it's also kind of a preliminary test."

"A preliminary test? You don't know if it works?" Hermione's eyes got wide.

Fred moved from behind her and stood next to his brother. "Well, it's worked with George and myself . . . but we knew what kind of wishes to make."

"So you're telling me that there's a quid pro quo for my own personal wish making?"

"No . . . not a quid pro quo, per say . . . just some light guidelines."

Hermione pressed her hands into her hips. "Light guidelines? Such as?"

Fred piped up. "Well, first off, the wish needs to be obtainable."

George smiled. "We're wizards, you know . . . not gods."

Hermione nodded slowly. "Okay."

Fred held up two fingers. "Second: You need to be prepared for any consequences—"

George overlapped him. "If there are any, that is."

"Consequences? What kind of birthday present includes consequences?"

"Well, we're not saying that there are going to be consequences . . . but, say, for example, you wish for a . . . a . . . ." Fred waved his hand in thought. "A pony . . . you'll then obtain all responsibility for the animal."

"I don't think I'll wish for a pony."

George nodded. "Fine. Well, let's say—for example—that you wish for a million galleons. Those galleons need to come from somewhere . . . and it's not our fault if they come illegally."

Hermione's head snapped. "What? Now you're talking illegalities?"

"Well, no . . . you just need to be conscious of what you wish for."

"And how do I do that?"

Fred smiled. "Just wish for something that won't really change anything—"

"—like a day off of school—"

"—or the answers to a test—"

"—or an apple."

Hermione frowned. "You want me to wish for an apple for my birthday?"

George's smiled sheepishly. "Well, no . . . but those are things that Fred and I wished for, and they came true smashingly."

Hermione sighed lightly. "I don't know if this is such a good idea . . ."

Fred's face fell. "It's really not that hard. Just wish for a new book, or some _great _quills."

"I don't need any of those things."

"But, this is the potential to have the best birthday present _ever_!"

"No offense, fellas, but I doubt it."

"You could ask for a day of pampering." Ginny broke through with a large smile. "Everyone deserves a day completely put aside for feeling good."

Hermione bit at her lip. It _would_ be nice to take some time for her mental health.

Finally, after some thought, she broke the silence. "What do I need to do?"

Identical smiles broke widely across Fred and George's faces. "Yeah?"

Hermione nodded slowly.

"Excellent." George's eyes dances with excitement. "It's quite simple, really. You just think of what you want . . . I mean, really focus . . . and blow out the candles."

"Then, breathe in the smoke and the rest will just happen." Fred cast a sideways glance at the cake. "Do you know what you're going to wish for?"

Hermione's mouth felt slightly dry as she nodded. "Yes." She hoped that it was something that wouldn't backfire on her.

"What is it? A day of pampering?" Ron asked, his eyes wide.

"Well, if I told you, it wouldn't come true, would it?" She smiled, but doubt still nagged in the pit of her stomach.

Oh, she was wishing for pampering all right, but probably not the kind that everyone else was thinking about. _This _pampering included someone else . . . a certain blond-haired Slytherin.

But, it was guaranteed that this pampering would definitely make her feel good.

She just wasn't sure if it were a wish that would work without consequences . . . if it would even work at all. But, she was prepared for it not to work . . . because she had nothing to loose. This was just an excuse to try something that she had always wanted to try.

It was her birthday . . . and she deserved it.

George pushed the cake closer to her. "Okay . . . well, if you have your wish, concentrate on it."

Fred leaned in. "_Really_ focus on it. Do you have it?"

Hermione closed her eyes and nodded.

"There's no turning back . . . are you sure that this is what you want?"

Hermione licked her lips nervously—adrenaline spreading through her veins, and nodded once more.

"If you're ready—" George leaned in, his voice low.

"—Make your wish and blow."

Taking a breath, Hermione pursed her lips and blew across the top of the cake gently. The candles flickered spastically and she heard her friends inhale sharply. Finally, the flames disappeared and smoke rose toward the ceiling—spiraling slowly in a sultry dance.

Hermione felt a hand on the back of her head, pushing her gently toward the smoke.

"Keep a hold of your wish and breathe deeply." It was Fred's voice instructing her quietly in her ear.

Hermione focused on what she wanted and inhaled. The smoke tickled her nose and she tried to pull away.

A second hand joined the first on the back of her head and held her in place.

"One more time . . . ." This time is was George commanding her.

Resisting the urge to sneeze, Hermione inhaled once more. The smoke traveled through her nose and into her chest.

Holding her breath, she was amazed to fell a tingling sensation start in her upper body. It formed in a quiet ball of energy before radiating toward her outer extremities. Her arms felt light as it traveled down toward her fingers, causing them to prickle. Her toes curled slightly as a tickle ran along the bottoms of her feet. And her head swam momentarily—feeling as if it were no longer connected to her body.

Releasing the breath in a _whoosh_, she bent over, coughing, and grabbed at the edge of the table to steady herself.

Her friends rushed forward, concerned, but Fred and George began to laugh—high-fiving each other in a glorious outburst of victory.

"Quite the rush, isn't it, Hermione?" Fred slapped her loudly on the back.

Still coughing, Hermione couldn't find words enough to speak.

"What did you do to her?" Ron's voice was livid. "Hermione, are you alright?"

"Oh, she's perfectly fine, Mate. Just relax." George chastised his brother half-heartedly.

Drawing in a large, cool breath, Hermione nodded. "I'm fine, Ron . . . really."

Harry approached her. "Well, how do you feel? Did it work?"

Hermione shook her head, grateful that it once again felt connected to her body. "I don't know if it worked . . . but I feel great."

"That's the Felix working." Fred was grinning madly.

"When will I know that it's worked?"

George shrugged. "It always depends . . . sometimes it takes some time to work everything out. But, when it does happen . . . it will be more than a crazy coincidence."

Hermione's stomach flipped lightly at the thought of her wish, but she nodded in understanding.

It wasn't even guaranteed to work . . . .

But, she couldn't help wondering if she had just gotten in over her head.

********************************************

It was dark.

Hermione could hear Ginny's light, even breathing, but she couldn't sleep.

The rest of the party had gone off without a hitch. It was a wonderful surprise. But even now . . . when she should be asleep . . . she found that she was forced awake thinking about her birthday wish.

It probably wouldn't even work.

It was a stupid wish and she should have done something more obtainable to help out Fred and George.

She didn't even know why it had popped into her head. But, she couldn't deny the fact that it had happened . . . nor was she able to take it back.

Rolling onto her side, she stared into the shadows and sighed dramatically.

She was restless.

Kicking the blankets from her feet, she shifted again, attempting to get more comfortable.

It was useless.

With a groan, she threw the blankets from her body and sat up in bed. Her feet dangled over the side—inches above the floor. Exasperated, she rubbed at her eyes before smoothing her hand through her unruly hair.

Sliding from the bed, her feet touched the cool floor briefly before finding the slippers that were hiding under her bed. Quietly, she slipped her feet inside of them and stood up. Reaching for her robe, she pulled the soft cloth over her shoulders and stretched.

And then, glancing over her shoulder at her sleeping roommates, she silently made her way from her room.

She didn't know where she was going. She just let her feet do the walking.

Soon, she was down the stairs and in the Gryffindor Common Room. The remains of her party were still apparent, and her gut tightened as she was once more reminded of her wish.

Without realizing it, she had left the safety of the Common Room and was ducking through the Fat Lady's portrait.

The hallway on the seventh floor was eerily quiet—the only noise coming from the other sleeping paintings.

Not even bothered by the fact that she was breaking curfew, Hermione's feet shuffled noiselessly across the floor as she walked idly toward the stairs, lost in thought.

She wasn't aware that she was descending the steps, waiting unconsciously for the staircases to move so she could continue her journey downward.

She reached the bottom and continued to travel forward—like a ghost gliding across the stone floor. Her robe fell open around her body as she moved, her eyes trained on the ground in front of her.

Pausing, she closed her eyes and listened to the castle breathe. She listened intently, picking out various noises and took them deep—lost in their uniqueness and surprisingly comforted by them.

"A little late for a walk, isn't it, Granger?"

Hermione jumped violently as she was torn from her seclusion. Her heart hammered in her throat as she opened her eyes and saw two silvery orbs shining back at her.

Gasping for breath, she clutched the material of her thin robe at her throat—suddenly feeling extremely exposed. "I-I couldn't sleep."

Draco emerged from the shadows, tall and pristine, his hair shining brightly in the dim light, his eyes seeming to glow against his pale, thin face.

Draco stopped directly in front of her and studied her face. "What? Honesty tonight? No witty remark?"

His expensive cologne wafted to her nose and Hermione suddenly felt light-headed with him standing so close. Her mouth dry, she shook her head wordlessly.

Draco furrowed his brow. "You're acting quite odd tonight, Granger. Am I making you uncomfortable?"

Again, Hermione shook her head, but her eyes were wide—trained directly on his face.

Draco smirked slightly. "So . . . if I were to do this . . . ." He took a step closer to her and Hermione gasped involuntarily.

His smile widened into a wicked grin. "Or this . . . ." Reaching out her ran his fingers lightly down her face.

Hermione's eyes rolled slightly and she had to force herself to stay on her feet. Casting her eyes downward in embarrassment, she withdrew a step.

Draco dropped his hand. "I do make you uncomfortable."

"Please—" Hermione kept her eyes trained on the ground, her voice a whisper.

Draco frowned. "Please what?"

Hermione turned her eyes on him—dark chocolate to slate. "Please . . . don't stop."

Draco looked at her, a look of shock crossing his features. Carefully, he traced her face with his eyes, his mouth slightly agape.

Hermione wasn't quite sure what came over her, but suddenly, she had the courage she lacked just minutes before. In one step, she closed the distance between them, wrapped her hands behind Draco's neck, and pulled him in for a searing kiss.

Their lips joined and, at first, Draco was stunned by surprise—too shocked to move. But as Hermione began to move her lips against his, he softened into her, his lips reciprocating as he pulled her into his body.

Hermione's fingers wrapped in to his silky blond hair as she traced her tongue slowly along his bottom lip.

Draco moaned lightly against her mouth and ran his own tongue along the seam of her lips, coaxing her mouth to open.

Hermione complied, and pressed her body into his as their tongues began to mingle.

Gripping her shoulders lightly, Draco pushed her backward until her back hit a wall. Hermione groaned loudly as his body pressed harder against her. Removing her hands from his neck, she ran them across his shoulders, and then down his hard, chiseled chest.

Draco moved his lips and began kissing down her jaw line, before biting and sucking lightly on her neck.

Hermione sighed and tilted her hips against him. She could feel his body reacting to her, and a shiver of anticipation traveled down her spine.

Draco cupped her breasts—his thumbs making small circles around her nipples. They stood firm and erect, pressing boldly through the thin material of her nightgown.

Suddenly, his hands were below the neckline of her top, his fingers working directly against her heated flesh. He pulled the material down, revealing her tight, pink little buds.

Licking his lips, he studied them, enjoying the way they responded to his fingers. Then, with eyes the color of molten steel, he bent his head and sucked one deep into the hot cavern of his mouth.

Hermione gasped and arched her back, pulling his head closer as his tongue swirled over her sensitive skin. As he sucked and nibbled, she felt heat build in the pit of her stomach as moisture pool between her thighs.

Her fingers wrapped in his hair once more, her fingers curled tightly against his skull. "Dra—" She broke off in a moan as bit down gently. Gasping, she tried again. "Draco . . . we can't stay here."

Without missing a beat, Draco tore his mouth from her breast, picked her up, and reclaimed her mouth.

Hermione straddled his waist, feeling his hardened erection pressing into her inner thigh as their tongues swirled together. She could feel the softness of his sweater as it rubbed against her naked nipples and with each step Draco took, she had to force herself to remain calm.

Moving only a few feet, Draco reached out and found the doorknob to a classroom. Fumbling slightly, his mouth still fused with hers, he turned the handle and they fell into the room. Closing the door with his foot, he walked forward until he hit a desk with his thighs.

Gently, he sat Hermione down on the edge of the desk. His hands roamed over her body, pulling the robe from her arms as he tugged her nightgown down to her waist.

Hermione clawed at his sweater, feeling an uncontrollable urge to feel his skin against hers. Deftly, he pulled it over his head before bowing and sucking her aching nipple back into his mouth.

Hermione laid her head back against the surface of the desk, her legs wrapped tightly around Draco's waist.

Draco kissed a trail from one breast to the other before dipping his head and slowly dragging his tongue down the middle of her core. Hermione arched her back, loving the feeling of his cool tongue against her hot skin.

Draco blew air on her and she shivered, gasping for breath.

Using his fingers, he drew her nightgown down over her hips and dropped it onto the floor. Kissing her stomach . . . her pelvis . . . her inner thigh . . . he suddenly parted her with his fingers, coating them with her velvety juices.

Skillfully, he stroked her.

Hermione's mind went blank and she opened her legs to him.

Finally, his mouth came in contact with her most sensitive parts. She cried out as he licked and sucked at her, tonguing her clit with just the very tip of his tongue.

Spreading her legs with his shoulders, he inserted a single finger into her. She bucked against his hand. She was already so wet that he easily added a second digit.

Moaning, she tossed her head as his fingers worked against her muscles, stroking her deep. His tongue continued to lap her folds as his fingers worked faster.

Heat built in Hermione's womb, and as he sucked her clit deep into her mouth, she exploded—her muscles contracting madly around his fingers.

Slowly, Draco worked his way up her sweat covered body. She could feel his hardened manhood pressing through the material of his pants against her soggy center.

He kissed her passionately and she could taste herself on his lips. Biting at his bottom lip, she rolled her hips up into him, eliciting a groan.

She smiled against his mouth and did it again.

He gasped, breathing heavily, his breath hot against her lips.

Sitting up, she reached between their bodies and gripped him through his pants. He growled, low and deep, and she rubbed him vigorously.

Biting his collarbone, she quickly undid the button and worked the zipper down. Her hand easily slid beneath the fabric and she gripped him tightly. He was like silk over steel—all man—hard and ready.

Stroking him, she used her other hand to push his pants to his thighs. His erection sprang out, monstrously beautiful, and she raked her nails over his buttocks as she watched a solid pearl of liquid ooze from the tip.

Sliding her body from the desk, she spun Draco quickly and pushed him into a seated position. Still gripping his cock firmly, she lowered herself between his thighs. Looking up at him behind heavy lids, she snaked her tongue out and slowly licked at the slit, making the tip glisten with her saliva.

Draco dropped his head back in a moan.

Kissing her way down his length, Hermione sucked lightly at his balls, teasing him with the tip of her tongue. Draco twisted his fingers in her hair and pressed his hips upward.

Finally, she took him into the depths of her mouth. Sucking, she moaned against him. Using her hands, she pumped him as she focused on his engorged purple tip.

Draco gasped and bucked his hips against her.

Lightly, Hermione raked her nails across his testicles, and pulled at them carefully.

She could hear Draco's breathing beginning to labor and suddenly, without warning, she removed her mouth with a _pop_.

Draco looked down at her, his face flushed.

With a wicked smile, Hermione rose and gently pushed Draco into a recumbent position. Then, with the grace of a cat, she crawled over his body and planted her knees on either side of his waist.

Reaching between her legs, she gripped his shaft and positioned it at her opening. In one fluid motion, she sank onto him, gasping as she was stretched and filled.

Draco grabbed her hips and began to move beneath her. Leaning forward, Hermione placed her hands on his chest for leverage as they slowly began a rhythm.

Sliding until she was seated tightly against his lap, Hermione slowly wiggled her hips, making figure eights against his legs. Draco growled, pressed against her, and groped at her breasts.

Increasing their pace, Hermione began to pant as she bounced on top of him. Draco squeezed and twisted her nipples between his fingers as he lifted his hips to meet her downward thrusts.

She was tight and warm around him, and he clenched his jaw.

Sitting up, he wrapped his arms tightly around her waist and pulled her chest against his. Still moving, he bit and sucked at her skin before rolling her.

Balancing her on the edge of the desk, Draco's feet found the floor as well as the much needed leverage. Gripping her hips, he plunged into her.

Hermione grabbed at the side of the desk and cried out as he hit nerves deep within her. Arching her back, she palmed at her breast as she panted—her breath coming out in shallow gasps.

A thin sheen of sweat covered her body as she felt the building of her second orgasm. Her face flushed scarlet as Draco seized her thighs and pushed her legs toward her head—his hips working like a piston against her.

In two thrusts, her orgasm hit her like a ton of bricks. Stars exploded in front of her eyes as her body clenched and released.

Draco continued to drive into her, until finally, he too reached his climax. Crying out, he shot his hot seed, his cock throbbing inside of her—pulsating as if alive.

Hermione lay, shaking violently, as Draco slowly straightened.

His hair was disheveled, stuck to his forehead with sweat. Breathing heavily, he brushed it back from his face.

Slowly, he looked around the room until he found what he was looking for. Bending over, he picked up his wand between thin fingers. Pressing it lightly to Hermione's abdomen, he mumbled a spell. Then, he waved it over his own body and performed a simple cleansing charm.

A little dazed and confused, he picked up his clothing and donned it. Then, with one final hand through his hair to smooth it against his head, he opened the door, looked both ways, and ducked out into the hallway.

Hermione lay, stunned, on the desk top, her body bright and shiny with sweat. She was still breathing heavily and trying to wrap her mind around what had just happened. Laying her hand on her forehead, she smiled toward the ceiling.

Fred and George were going to be ecstatic.

Their candles completely worked. And she couldn't wait to tell them—well, not tell them any of the details . . . but tell them that they worked, nonetheless.

And they were right . . . . This was, by far, the best birthday present ever.

**The End**

_A/N: There you have it! I hope you enjoyed this little piece of P.W.P. Because that's exactly what it is. Once again, please just take it as it is . . . something entertaining to help you pass the time. And, please review ___


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